‘They’re upstairs in my rooms – take your time with the food, enjoy it. I need to go ahead anyway,’ said Ahab.

He went upstairs while Forest finished his chowder, giving Keegan warning once inside: ‘Visitor is coming, old boy.’

The dog wouldn’t let anyone in without Ahab there, not unless it was Ned, and even that had taken a while.

Keegan waved his tail in acknowledgement, but gave a soft growl nonetheless.

‘None of that. Go.’

He climbed out of his bed and stood guard by the door, ready to inspect the newcomer. Ahab pulled photo albums out of the cupboard and had them waiting on the coffee table. He used to take them out all the time, but now he tried not to spend too much time dwelling on the past. He kept them in a special order now, based on how happy they made him feel. Some years had been better than others. The worst years were kept at the end of the line, only brought out rarely . . .

Before long he heard Forest climbing the steps outside; when he knocked on the door, Keegan growled. Ahab opened it, a hand on the dog’s collar. But as Forest stepped into the room Ahab’s supposed guard dog wagged his tail at the sight of the boy, and even began licking his hand.

‘He likes you,’ said Ahab, surprised.

He knew his dog like he knew his own self. That lick and tail-wag combo was reserved for people he particularly liked. Which was impossible, because Keegan had never met Forest before.

‘I’m good with animals,’ said Forest easily. ‘Maybe he can smell Zeus on me.’

‘Maybe,’ said Ahab.

Suspicion took over once more. Keegan definitely seemed to know Forest. Something wasn’t right.

Ahab gestured the boy over. He pointed out interesting photos, all scrapbooked once upon a time by Alexandra Dempsey. Gifted to him – he always figured it was because she knew about the child he’d lost, and felt sorry for him, having no family of his own.

He turned the pages, handwritten captions alongside the pictures. Forest with their old dog, Roxy. Forest curled up with Jesse in front of the TV. Forest with his little space backpack, with the caption in Alexandra’s careful hand: Given to Forest, 6yo, by Ivy, after he informed her he wanted to be an astronaut when he grew up. She told him he was born for it, and bequeathed this backpack. How time flies.

Forest touched the page. ‘I remember this.’

Ahab turned away, clearing his throat, overcome with emotion warring with paranoia. It wasn’t fair on the boy that Ahab was feeling this way! Why did Dempseys always have to assume something bad was going on?

As if on cue, the phone rang. He picked it up. ‘Mermaid’s Darling.’

‘I told you to stay away from Forest,’ came Ivy’s hard voice.